


blood stains on the coliseum doors

by aeriamamaduck



Series: Cyrodiil's Child [22]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Imprisonment, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8206538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: Minerva walks through her worst nightmare.





	

There wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t bruised and aching.

Minerva walked down the stairs leading to the barracks, her head pounding and a vaguely ill sensation in her belly. Hours, mere hours since the battle and she found herself preparing to face the true enemy. Mankar Camoran himself, in a world of his own creation.

What sleep she did get was short and fitful, and she spent the rest of the time trying to calm her jittery breaths while reciting every prayer she knew under her breath and making sure her armor could withstand another battle.

She was terrified, breath catching painfully in her throat at the thought of going back into another realm, back into the fire. Back into dark caverns that led into more pitch blackness and heat that choked her.

Then Minerva remembered Baurus and Jauffre lying dead on the battlefield. Martin standing among the other weary survivors in Kvatch. People crying out for loved ones as the city burned.

She’d come too far to give in. She had to see this through to the end, or else lose everything.

Her arms shook as she pushed the doors open to step into the hall.

She bit back a gasp at the sight of two brilliant lights in the middle of the hall, floating atop the triangular rune on the floor. The Welkynd Stone and the Sigil Stone, her keys to Paradise. Martin, once again in his robes, stood beside the rune, a deep frown on his face as he gave the arrangement a critical gaze. Minerva stepped into the hall and looked at the stones with weary acceptance. “So this is it.”

He turned at the sound of her voice and sighed with a small nod. She stepped closer to him and immediately reached for his hand, grateful he was still alive to hold on to hers. He reached for her other hand and brought them both to his lips, anguish radiating off of him. “I wish it were me going instead of you. I can do this, Minerva. You don’t have to keep–”

She shook her head and freed her hands from his grip to bring them to his face. She kept her voice firm and said, “Martin. No matter what happens after today, no matter what paths our lives take, I will _never_ stop being your Blade. I’m glad to do this for the one person I _know_ can rebuild Tamriel. And you know I’m not going to let you walk into the enemy’s hands. You’re much too important for me to let that happen.”

For a moment Martin looked about to argue before his words dissolved to a resigned chuckle. “I can see there will be no arguing with you.”

For the first time in hours, Minerva smiled. “You bet there won’t be.”

She reluctantly let him go and he gestured at the arranged stones. “I have everything in place for the ritual. I’ll open the portal whenever you’re ready.”

“Are _you_ ready?” she asked.

“No,” Martin answered simply, exhaustion and worry plain on his face. “I don’t know what you’ll find in Camoran’s Paradise. I do know the portal I create through the Mysterium Xarxes ritual will close behind you. You’ll have to find another way back.” He brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Minerva heard how uneven his breaths were.

She struggled to steady her own breathing, not wanting to give him another reason to fear for her. “Right…Any suggestions on how to start looking?”

“I believe that Mankar Camoran acts as the ‘anchor’ for Paradise, just as a sigil stone anchors an Oblivion Gate in place. Kill Mankar Camoran, and you will unmake his Paradise,” he told her.

She swallowed, trying to resign herself to this one final trial. Every step she’d taken had brought her to this inevitable confrontation with the man responsible for everything, and she was so afraid. “I can do this. I can do…” Her voice broke off in a tremble and she brought her hands up to cover her face just as she felt Martin’s arms wrap tightly around her. “Oh, Divines guide me…”

He turned her to face him and she felt his lips press against the top of her head. “I will pray for you every second you are gone,” he whispered urgently. “Akatosh keep you, Minerva. What I would give to…”

Minerva shook her head, her heart racing painfully as she swallowed whatever tears she wanted desperately to shed. “It’s time. I’m ready.”

His pain was evident as he released her. “Our fate is in your hands. Bring back the Amulet of Kings.”

Taking yet another breath, Minerva said the one thing she knew was true, “I swear I won’t fail you.”

“I know you won’t,” he said with such tender certainty. “Brace yourself.”

He turned away from her, and the next few moments passed in a nondescript blur as Minerva automatically unsheathed her sword and found herself staring at a massive portal that had sprung out of the floor. The sight of it shocked her; it was a far cry from the Oblivion Gates she was used to, blinding in its brilliance.

She turned towards Martin, who looked as if he were about to say something. Fierce purpose coursing through her as it had all these months, Minerva tore her gaze away from his and ran straight into the portal, shutting her eyes and waiting for heat to engulf her as Tamriel disappeared.

When she opened her eyes her heart stuttered at the sudden rush of cool air around her, and the burst of bright colors that assaulted her eyes.

Everything around her was vibrant and thriving, nothing at all like the Deadlands. Living trees, loping deer, butterflies fluttering by.

Minerva could just feel the danger coming off everything in waves. Different in appearance but no different in nature. It was just so with everything Mehrunes Dagon had touched.

Camoran’s Paradise lay before her in all its vastness.

-

There was something evil in these Bands, sapping away at her strength and defenses as she struggled through the caverns. Her mind, hindered by her weakened state, was a whirl of desperation as the heat around her burned hotter as she entered the Forbidden Grotto.

_I have to make it. Talos, lend me your strength, I beg of you._

Truth be told, Minerva was not sure if her weakness came from the Bands or the crippling fear clutching her throat. The heat and enclosed space was making it harder to breathe. Suddenly it looked horrifyingly hopeless. How could she hope to face Camoran in this state? Camoran, whose voice continued to crawl through her mind unchecked, trying to twist everything she’d believed in?

_Do it, Minerva. No matter what it takes, you make sure that Camoran dies._

Even if she died along with him.

Her heart ached at the thought of causing Martin any pain.  _I’m sorry, Martin. Let me do this one final duty for you._

She heard movement ahead in the caves and crouched low, keeping her sword pointed forward though her arm shook. Everything was bruises and exhaustion, but she would not let some underling stand in her way.

A robed figure approached slowly, making no move to cast a spell or brandish a weapon. Minerva recognized the red cultist robes and stood her ground as the elf came nearer, an astonished look on his face.

He asked in an incredulous tone, “You wear the Bands, but you’re no prisoner? Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Taking a breath, Minerva glared at the Altmer and hissed, “I’m here to kill Mankar Camoran, and if you stand in my way a moment longer I’ll run you through, I swear to the gods…”

To her astonishment she watched as hope bloomed in his eyes. Desperation took hold of his voice as he asked, “Can you really do it? Can you bring this eternal nightmare to an end? Can you defeat Mankar Camoran, and free all the souls of the poor fools who followed him?”

Minerva bristled at that and took a step forward, the tip of her blade touching the spot directly atop the elf’s heart. “‘Poor fools’? I am _not_ here to bring peace to the men and women who willingly set out to destroy the lives of innocent people for the sake of a madman’s plans!”

The Altmer raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Listen, I can help you. You need my help if you are ever to leave the Forbidden Grotto.”

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Why in the world would _you_ help me?”

“I was at the sack of Kvatch. They had no chance. We took them by surprise, and we carried the walls in the first assault. But they fought on anyway. Desperately. They seemed to think this decadent, mundane world of theirs was worth defend— _AH!”_

He sprawled backwards as Minerva furiously caught him with a sharp backhand to the jaw. She watched the blood trickle from his wretched mouth in satisfaction, but her wrath was in full view. “Don’t you _dare—_ ”

He whimpered, “I’m sorry! Please, hear me out!” Wiping his swelling mouth with a wince, he slowly got to his feet and explained further. “I was slain after the battle was over. Three townsfolk hiding in a cellar attacked me when I entered their house, hunting down survivors. They tore me to pieces, although I have no doubt they were immediately killed by my companions.”

Minerva briefly closed her eyes in grief for those brave souls who had tried, against all odds, to stay alive.

The cultist went on, melancholy crossing his features. “I’ve had plenty of time to ponder my deeds since I came here. Ponder, and regret. An eternity of regret. For my weakness, the Master sent me here, to torture my former comrades who showed similar ingratitude for his gift of eternal life.”

She scoffed bitterly, “What do you want? A commendation? Pity?”

“Peace. I only seek to help you.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

He pointed at her bound wrists and explained, “No one wearing the Bands of the Chosen can leave this Grotto. The doors will not open, and there is no other way out. I can remove them, but I will need time. The Dremora overseer will be here any minute to check up on me. You need to play along until he leaves.”

She liked this little. “Play along how?”

“Just act like a prisoner, and do as I say. Once Orthe leaves, we can find a quiet spot to remove those Bands.”

She would have laughed had the situation not been so risky. She was far too inconspicuous to be a mere prisoner, and trusting this elf would be utter madness. He had participated in the destruction of Kvatch, setting the stage for Dagon’s invasion. Yet, if he was the only one who could get her out of this place…

Minerva softly groaned in defeat. “Fine. I’ll play along.”

The elf smiled with evident relief. “Good. Follow me. And don’t worry, you can trust me.”

She walked beside him, sheathing her sword and glaring at him with all the contempt she could muster. “Rest assured that I won’t, murderer.”

“I am Eldamil.”

“I don’t care.”

They went deeper into the caves, dread settling in Minerva’s belly as they neared yet another lava-filled gorge from whence people’s screams of agony floated up. The sound made her dizzy.

She froze in her tracks at the sight of the cage hanging over the lava, vacant with its door open as if expecting her to step inside. Her heart raced fearfully as she recalled with perfect clarity the humiliation of being shoved into a dark, lonely cell after a beating that left her bones aching.

_No, no, no…_

“What’s going on here? Who’s this?”

It was a rough, cruel-sounding dremora that spoke. Minerva spun around, her terror genuine as Eldamil explained, “A prisoner, sent in by–”

The kynreeve snarled contemptuously, “Show me some respect, worm! Unless you want to end up in the cages with _them_.”

Eldamil swallowed audibly as he lowered his eyes. “…Yes, kynreeve, Sir. This prisoner was sent in by Kathutet for questioning. I was about to begin.”

“This is not one of Mankar Camoran’s chattels from the Garden. Who is she?”

“Nothing escapes your vigilance, kynreeve,” Eldamil simpered. “Kathutet wondered as well. This is why he sent her for questioning.”

“Well…Carry on.”

“Of course, kynreeve.” Eldamil then turned to her and shoved her towards the cage, Minerva barely able to keep balance. “Prisoner! Get in the cage.”

The shove wasn’t quite as hard as Phillida’s merciless push that knocked the breath out of her body, pain flooding her body when she'd hit the hard floor. At least it was a floor. A cold floor and not a virtually bottomless cage that hovered perilously over lava.

Minerva shivered as she took those steps and brought up her hands to grip the iron bars, whimpering when the cage began to swing. She held on for dear life as the door swung shut, trapping her as she looked directly below her and heard the screams of the prisoner beside her.

Immortal. Sentenced to an eternity of anguish without the sweet mercy of death.

Was that to be her fate?

Her stomach lurched violently as the cage began to lower, and Minerva stared in horror as that lake of fire steadily came closer and closer, the soles of her feet beginning to burn.

Less than a second and her lungs seemed to shrivel inside her, but somehow she managed to scream in panic as she held tight to the bars and tried to climb higher, away from the heat.

 _“GODS, NO! OH GODS, HELP ME!”_ she sobbed, closing her eyes and hoping for death as the fire raged around her.

_MARTIN!_

She would never see him again.

Yet another lurch of her insides and Minerva opened her eyes to find herself ascending. The heat was slowly disappearing. Her breaths weak with relief, she sobbed gratefully as she went higher, trying to ignore the anguished screams from the other prisoner.

The cage opened on the opposite side of the gorge and Minerva toppled out of it onto solid ground, dry heaving painfully and repeating her thanks over and over in her mind. She clutched her heaving middle as she coughed, grateful to be alive.

Part of her wanted so badly to curl up and rest, but she knew she had to go on. She could not afford to waste any more time, not when she was so _close_ to ending this wretched invasion. _My home…They won’t take my home…_ Minerva pushed herself on to trembling legs and turned back to gaze across the gorge at Eldamil.

He was alone, anxious eyes staring at her and nodding encouragingly. “There’s no way for me to cross! But the Master’s immortality does have its uses! I will distract the dremora for as long as I can!”

With that he ran off towards the cave where the kynreeve had likely exited.

Praying for surer steps, Minerva unsheathed her sword and ran towards the caverns ahead of her, into further darkness.

_Heaven help me._


End file.
